


Walking in the Air

by chooken



Series: 12 Days of Westlife [6]
Category: Westlife
Genre: Airplane Sex, Anal Fingering, Awkward Romance, Casual Sex, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Undecided Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8886223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: They're still two hours out from home, the lights in first class turned down, when Kian comes to sit beside him.
Inspired by Walking in the Air, from The Snowman, though my favourite version's by Ryan Sheridan.





	

****“It's pretty,” Kian murmured. Nicky nodded, leaning his cheek carefully against the window. It was pretty. Two days before Christmas and they were only three hours out from Dublin. Going home. For the first time in ages, it felt like. A hand threaded surreptitiously into his.

It was late in the evening, a long-haul flight back from China. Shane was asleep somewhere on the other side of first class, Mark conked out across the aisle and back a couple seats. The lights would go up soon, probably, but for now it was dark and almost silent, save for the occasional sound of a flight attendant talking quietly back in coach and the rumble of the engines.

“You looking forward to Christmas?”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. He could see little villages as they passed over, flickering spatters of light painted onto the ground like dreams. They'd be out over the ocean soon, he suspected, on the home stretch. The fingers in his squeezed a little tighter. He squeezed back.

“I should probably get back to my seat,” Kian admitted. “People might start to wonder why I'm over here.”

“They're all asleep,” Nicky whispered back. “Anyway, you were bored and wanted to come for a chat.” He glanced over his shoulder. “There's room for two.” He squished over a bit more. Kian slid properly into the seat, off the arm. There wasn't really space, but it didn't really matter. A kiss brushed his ear.

“Hey.”

“That might be pushing it a bit,” Nicky chuckled quietly. Kian grinned, and did it again. “Definitely pushing it.”

“I'm just checking out the view.”

They were rising a little, and clouds were swathed across the windows, a sea of drifting cotton. There was a storm somewhere on the horizon and he could see the stuttering glow of lightning, the occasional jagged spark. The plane was gliding steadily, had been but for a slight patch of turbulence right after take-off. Nicky was used to it by now. Used to the safety demonstrations and customs queues and recycled air and all the rest of it. He remembered when it had been exciting. Four years later and it was just routine. Part of their lives.

“Pretty,” Nicky commented. “Think we'll hit the storm?”

“Maybe. But that's not what I was looking at.” Kian gestured, and Nicky realised he was pointing at Nicky's own reflection, painted onto the darkness through the glass. He smiled, felt another kiss suck at his neck. He could see Kian too, blonde hair flopped forward a little as he bent to Nicky's skin.

“Romantic.”

“Not romantic,” Kian corrected him. “We said we weren't going there.”

“We did.” Just fucking. It was all they were doing. A bit of release, a bit of comfort. It was all it ever was. Not a bad thing, especially. Long days on the road, lonely nights in hotel rooms. If the others knew they weren't bothering to say anything. It was just casual. Just... a thing.

“Horny,” Kian muttered. Nicky felt a hot thrill, felt it sharpen when fingers walked teasingly up his thigh. “Can I?”

“Ki,” he laughed. “Public.”

“I know.” The chuckle was naughty. Nicky shivered. “Did a quick check. Everyone's out.” His hand slid up further, finding a grip. Nicky didn't stop it. “So, tell me what you're doing for Christmas,” he said suddenly, and Nicky looked up in confusion, saw laughing eyes dancing in the reflection on the glass.

Fingertips edged below the waist of his trackpants. He felt his stomach muscles flutter in anticipation, his thighs spread slightly in the seat, felt the press of Kian's leg warm against his. He focused on the window. He'd turned his TV off a while back, had wanted to close his eyes and drift a bit. It was dark. He'd barely see Kian's hand even if he had looked down. He could see Kian, though. Blue eyes intent and hungry in the glass.

“Nicky?”

“What.” His breath caught when a thumb edged the elastic away from his groin, and then Kian's hand was in, wrapping slowly around him. “What was the question?”

“Christmas. What are you doing?”

“I'm...” A fingertip began to trace slowly along his slit, up and down. His hand tightened on the arm-rest. “I'm going to see my family.”

“Sounds nice.” Teeth bit into his ear. Nicky bit his lip to stifle a moan. “Just your folks?”

“No. Mam and dad and... and Adam and Gillian and my grandparents.” He couldn't believe he was talking about this with a hand on his cock, but okay. If this was the game Kian wanted to play, he could play along. Act casual. Just a regular conversation between friends. “We're doing lunch,” he explained helplessly. The finger had stopped tracing, was pressing now, then sliding down his length, spreading the trickle of fluid that was starting to leak. He tried not to arch in his seat. Hard. Well and truly. Kian was breathing steadily in his ear.

“What are you having?”

“Erm.” His head tipped back. “Erm. Erm. Erm...”

“Look at the view.”

“Yeah.” He forced his eyes open, stared out. The moon was hovering just to the front of them, a glowing yellow ball. He looked down. Clouds. More clouds. The black line of a river, traced by the white and yellow speckles of a town, growing larger. Not Ireland. Not yet. Still drifting somewhere over Europe, probably. Not that it mattered, but...

“What are you having for Christmas lunch?”

“Roast... roast beef, and...” Kian's hand was moving, setting a rhythm. Slow and firm, cupping over his balls before stroking up, drifting back down. “Might do potatoes. Mam always does potatoes.”

“Sounds good,” Kian purred. Nicky wriggled helplessly, lost to the feeling of it. “Fuck, you're so hard,” he breathed suddenly. Nicky whimpered. “Do your family do trifle?”

“Yes,” Nicky blurted. “Yes, they... nan usually...” He gulped.

“Mine too. Bacon and cabbage, and potatoes, and goose.” Nicky nodded. “Usually way too much, but with seven of us there's always someone to take the leftovers, at least.” He kissed Nicky's ear. The storm was past them. He could see the glow of it striking somewhere behind the tail. The clouds were parting. Nicky watched them, open-mouthed and breathless, as Kian's other hand slid down the back of his trackpants. “Did you get them anything nice?”

“I...” He almost cried out when a knuckle found him, circling, screwing pressure. “Oh god,” he muttered. Kian chuckled beside him. His eyes were dark in the glass, watching so intently. Nicky shivered, tried to resist the urge to lean an arm against the window to brace himself, needing something to hold onto. He gripped the arm-rest harder instead.

“There's the ocean,” Kian pointed out. Nicky nodded. Endless blackness. The coast looked like Christmas lights, falling away behind them. “Not much to see, then.” They locked eyes in the glass. Kian's knuckle drew back, and when it returned it was a long finger, flicking gently, urging him open.

“Can't,” Nicky whispered. Kian kissed his ear.

“Just a little,” he urge. “Just to feel you.” Nicky nodded slowly, unable to help it when he could hear the rough lust in Kian's voice, the want. The hand was still moving on his cock, relentless. His head tilted towards Kian's shoulder, though he righted it quickly when he realised how badly he wanted it. To snuggle in. To bury his head in Kian and feel him. Hot skin and firm muscle and strong arms propping him up.

“What... are you doing for Christmas?”

Kian smirked. Nicky tried to smile back.

“Same thing. Family. Mam'll probably mention that next year I should bring someone.”

“Yeah?” Nicky's own laugh sounded broken. “You think you will?"

“Don't know. Been a bit busy.” Teeth bit into Nicky's neck, a little posessive. He arched, groaned, felt Kian's eyes strip him down. The stroke was harder, speeding up, thrumming along to the hoofbeat of his racing heart. The finger was pistoning, shallow little jabs that were pulling him apart. He screwed his eyes shut as the pressure climbed.

“Kian,” he gasped. “Ki...”

“Not sure, to be honest.” His eyes were shy, suddenly. “Starting to think maybe it's too late, you know? Or just too hard. One or the other.”

“Course it isn't. You're...” He grunted, swore under his breath, twisted into the grip. And there. Oh... “You're great. Course you are. Who wouldn't want to be with you?”

“I'm sure you could think of someone who doesn't,” Kian teased, though his voice sounded too heavy for the words.

“We're not...”

“I know.” Kian smiled. “Not complaining.” The finger drove deep. Nicky let out a silent howl, hand slapping down on the window, fingers splayed out and blocking the view, scrabbling desperately for purchase as he began to fall apart. A chin landed on his shoulder. Nicky twisted, but he was caught. Couldn't lean back with a hand behind him, couldn't move forward. Could only stare out the window, biting his lip to keep the cries at bay.

“Oh,” he gasped. Kian's grip tightened.

“I think we're almost home,” Kian said softly. Nicky nodded, saw a smirk. “Not far now?”

“No,” Nicky croaked. “Really close.”

“Have to get ready for landing.” Kian glanced towards the small row of snacks at the side of the seat, lined up next to the television. At the napkin, next to them. “Want it to be as clean as possible.”

“Yes...” He fumbled for it. Grabbed it. Midnight sky stared back as his waistband was lifted up and over. He popped free, full and leaking, Kian's hand a blur. The lights were still off. Nobody around. The rest of first class was silent. He just needed...

“So sexy,” he heard Kian whisper. Hoarse, reverent, full of lust and want. Nicky trembled, felt himself coil. “Nicky.”

That was it. The view fell away as his head tipped back. Kian growled. He rocked helplessly. Silencing his grunts of pleasure as best he could while Kian's fingers urged him out, nudging his own hand as he held the napkin, tried to catch everything.

He shuddered to a halt, head sagging slowly forward. Kian's eyes were watching him in the reflection, hungry and a little triumphant. Nicky smiled, breathless. Kian smiled back.

“I'd better go back to my seat,” Kian said, finally. Nicky nodded. Of course. He hoped it didn't smell like sex in here. Had a feeling it really did, especially in the dry recycled air. Really hoped that his own tendency to lose his sense of smell while flying was something that affected everyone else. He was still trembling slightly, hoping for the best, when Kian took the napkin and stood, beginning to wander back towards the toilets. The door closed. Nicky tucked himself away, almost moaning out loud at the lingering sensitivity.

He'd just finished tidying himself up when the lights went back on.

He blinked. A couple of people were stirring. Mark grumbled, two seats back and across the aisle, and tried to snuggle further into his own hands.

“ _This is your captain.”_ There were sleepy murmurs as more people woke. _“We will be beginning our descent into Dublin in just over an hour. Please have any rubbish ready, as the flight crew will be collecting it momentarily. Thank you for flying with us, and have a Merry Christmas.”_

“Merry Christmas,” Nicky mumbled back. He could see Shane in the next row, standing and stretching. He'd need the toilet. Always did, just before the end of a flight, or he'd be busting before they hit the terminal. He sidled up, passing Kian on the way.

Nicky got a wink just before Kian sat down. He looked... flustered. Sated and content in a way that looked decidedly recent. Nicky winked back, and as he did he saw Kian lift two fingers to his mouth and suck them in.

“Tease,” Nicky whispered.

Kian grinned back, then dropped into his seat. Nicky laughed and turned to look out the window again.

There was Ireland. He could see it. Golden fairylights, millions of people fast asleep down there. His family, friends. His home. Mark was sitting up behind him, sounding grumpy at being woken. He knew them all so well.

His mam would ask too, probably, if he was bringing someone for Christmas. Not this year. It was too soon. He looked up as the trolley came past, saw Kian across the aisle, gathering up his rubbish. Saw blue eyes that connected with his, just for a moment.

Not this Christmas, no.

But in a year's time...

“Hey,” Kian said, as the trolley rumbled away. Nicky smiled back, feeling his heart flutter. “You okay?”

“I'm fine,” he replied. “You erm... don't read into this, but do you want to go have dinner or something one night? Like... after Christmas?” Kian looked at him in surprise. “Just a thought.”

“Oh.” Kian scratched his hair, though Nicky could swear he was blushing. “If you like. That sounds really nice.”

“It... yeah.” They both laughed awkwardly. Kian was almost beaming.

Nicky nodded and turned back to the window, watching Dublin rise up towards him while a baffled smile danced in the reflection of the sky.

 


End file.
